The loss of a child, through my journey of grief and mental health.

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My special daddy…

Today is a day that is a day dedicated to Father’s, but daddy every day is a special day that should be dedicated to you.

I know that if I was there, I would have made you a special card, with sticky fingers and lots of mess. I would have made you ginger bread men at nursery, but the little men would have come home with no arms, because I might have eaten them on the way home. Mummy would have told me not too, but I would have done it anyway, you would have loved them without arms anyway, I just know it.

With mummy’s help I would have made you breakfast in bed, but not before having snuggles, and then I would have done some really good jumping up and down on your bed. And because you’re super lucky I would have helped you eat your toast, because that’s my favourite.

But the thing is, I’m not there. But today doesn’t feel any worse than yesterday or tomorrow, maybe slightly more poignant, because we don’t get to wake up together any day and this makes me really sad. But I don’t want you to be sad, because you’re being the best daddy that I could ever wish for. And for every day that we spend apart is one day closer to the day that we’ll be together again. But daddy, you have a really important job to do, you and mummy. I gave you a really special gift, I gave you a little baby, a little brother or sister from me, because you deserve it, you deserve to be happy, you deserve to be able to hold a little baby again and you deserve to love and be loved. Just like we did.

Daddy I really miss you, and I see how upset you are, I see mummy cry and hurt and I see how you look after her. I know how much you worry about her. I know that despite all of your own pain you make sure that she is ok and the little peanut growing inside her belly. I know there will always be something missing from our little family of four, but just know daddy that I follow you around all the time. I never leave your side. I know that your strength comes from me and as you gently put one foot in front of the other, I will hold you. I will quietly slip my little hand into yours and slowly help you forwards.

From my little white fluffy cloud I’m sending you the biggest, squeeziest of all the hugs.

Hi Melissa. I thought of you yesterday when I listened to one of my very favorite podcasts called “On Being”. It’s called “The Myth of Closure” and she talks about all the “ambiguous losses” we have in our lives, and how grief is never something we actually get over. It’s full of wisdom and might help you on your grief journey. http://www.onbeing.org/program/pauline-boss-the-myth-of-closure/8757